This Beast Tamer Has So Many Questions

Three months passed in a blur of games and golden afternoons, and then, one ordinary day, it finally happened.

One of the ravens met every requirement at once.

Elias was not even watching the right bird when it began. A soft golden light welled up from somewhere deep inside the raven—not blinding, not violent, but warm, the color of late sunlight through honey—and spread outward until it wrapped the whole creature in a gentle glow. The bird did not seem frightened. If anything it looked content, settling into the light as though sinking into a warm bath. And then, slowly, the glow drew inward and condensed, and where a raven had stood there was now a single golden egg, smooth and faintly luminous, resting in the grass.

Elias gathered it up with enormous care.

He had never seen this stage of evolution before—none of his beasts had ever evolved from an egg—and so he did what he always did when faced with something new and precious: he fussed over it. He kept the egg warm, checked it a dozen times a day, watched for any sign that something had gone wrong. Nothing had. The egg simply sat there, glowing softly, patient as the bird inside it had learned to be.

And once the first had gone, the rest followed.

It was as though that first transformation had given the others permission. Over the next two weeks, one by one and then in twos and threes, the ravens completed their hundred small fortunes and dissolved into that same soft golden light, until the realm was dotted with luminous eggs nestled in flowerbeds and cradled in the careful hooves of Butler Pigs. By the end of the fortnight every last bird had gone—all three hundred and one of them, Hero included, his scarred golden egg tucked carefully apart from the rest where Kyle could keep an anxious eye on it.

Then they waited.

A week after the last egg formed, the first one began to stir.

Elias was there for it, because of course he was; he had barely left the eggs alone in days.

The golden shell trembled, cracked, and split—and a raven climbed out into the light.

It was smaller than before. That was the first thing Elias noticed. Where the old Carrier Ravens had stood a solid ninety centimeters or more, eagle-sized and heavy, this one was perhaps seventy—trimmer, lighter, built for grace rather than labor. Its eyes were a brilliant, liquid gold. Its feathers had changed too, the old plain black now shot through with veins of shining gold, so that it seemed to catch and hold the light with every small movement.

And it was whole.

That was the part that caught in Elias's throat. This had been one of the broken ones—a wing that had snapped long ago and healed at a wrong, useless angle. The wing was perfect now. Every injury the years had left on it was simply gone, scoured away by evolution, the bird remade clean, new, and undamaged. It tested the once-ruined wing, found it sound, and, with a cry of pure delight, launched itself into the air, spiraling up into the bright sky of the realm just for the joy of it.

Elias watched it fly, and felt his chest go tight and warm, and brought up its status to see what it had become.

Race: Lucky Raven

Type: Avian

Attribute: Wind, Mystic (Fortune)

Current Rank: Commander Rank 3

Potential Rank: Lord Rank 10

Mood: Excited

Skills:

Lucky Sense — Lv2

Lucky Strike — Lv3

Lucky Discovery — Lv2

Luck's Caw — Lv1

Lucky Presence — Lv1

Directional Sense — Lv7

Enhanced Memory — Lv8

Carry Strength — Lv7

Swift Flight — Lv5

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Silent Flight — Lv4

Wind Barrier — Lv5

Wind Cut — Lv6

It took a moment for the full weight of it to land.

Lord Rank Ten was no small thing. A beast that reached it stood at the very ceiling of the Lord realm, a single threshold below Monarch—the kind of companion that ordinary families spent fortunes and generations chasing. And here it was, sitting at the top of a hatched delivery bird's status as though it belonged there.

For a moment, Elias thought of his own beasts, of the strange luck that had brought Briar and Valentine to him with their towering potential, and how long he had told himself that kind of fortune couldn't simply be manufactured. Powerful beasts were supposed to be found, or bred over lifetimes, or stumbled upon once and never again.

Except this one hadn't been any of those things.

Because this was no fluke. This was a method. A repeatable, teachable, deliberate path that took the commonest delivery bird in the world—a creature so unremarkable that people gave them away when they broke—and reliably turned it into a peak Lord-potential spirit beast. Three hundred and one eggs sat in his realm, and every single one of them would hatch into the same impossible thing. And once the method went public, as all his methods did, there would be no end to it. Lucky Ravens by the countless thousand, scattered across the whole of Blue Star, hatched from birds that had once carried parcels for a wage of grain.

His thoughts were cut short by a sensation he had come to know well.

The Wheel of Fortune took shape before him, shimmering in the air the way it always did when an evolution of his bore fruit—a great spinning wheel of rewards, most of them small, one of them gleaming gold at the very top. The pointer spun.

And this time, perhaps because a creature of pure Fortune was wheeling joyfully through the sky directly overhead, the pointer slowed, wobbled, and came to rest squarely on the golden spot.

Elias felt the reward settle into him—not a rank, not a skill for a beast, but something rarer. A new talent, unfolding quietly in his soul.

[Master of Evolution]

All spirit beasts you evolve will gain a higher growth rate toward rank and skill proficiency.

Elias stared at the words glowing softly in his mind and felt something close to awe.

A talent that rewarded the very thing he had built his life around. Every beast he raised from now on—every overlooked, underestimated creature he chose to believe in—would grow faster, stronger, reach further than it ever could have alone. It was as though the world itself had looked at what he was trying to do and quietly decided to help.

He was still turning it over, half-stunned, when a weight thumped down onto his arm.

The newly hatched Lucky Raven had swooped back down to him.

It pressed its bright golden head against his hand and let out a low, contented croak—gratitude, plain and unmistakable, from a creature that had spent its old life broken and forgotten and now wheeled whole through a sky it had been certain it would never fly again. Elias scratched it gently beneath its beak, the way he had when it was still a one-winged thing dozing in his arms, and the raven leaned into the touch.

Then, with the boundless energy of the freshly remade, it was off again—this time streaking straight for Kyle and Koda, who had been watching the whole thing from the edge of the clearing. It looped around Kyle's head twice, shamelessly showing off, then landed on Koda's broad shoulder to preen its shining new feathers for an appreciative audience. Kyle whooped. Koda, who had carried more than his share of these birds through three months of games, looked up at the gleaming creature with something like pride.

By the third week, the rest had followed.

One after another the golden eggs split open, and the realm filled with Lucky Ravens—three hundred and one of them, gold-veined and brilliant-eyed and, every one, made whole. The blind could see. The lame could fly. The old were not old anymore. Every wound the years had carved into them was gone, scoured clean by the evolution, leaving behind only the bird underneath all that damage—the bird it had always been, before the world wore it down.

And yet, in the ways that mattered, very little had changed.

They were the same clever, mischievous, joyful creatures they had been the day before, only healthier. They still adored Kyle's games, threw themselves into the treasure hunts with even greater delight, and seemed entirely uninterested in the fact that they were now among the most promising spirit beasts on the planet. The only real difference was the games themselves—because a flock of birds with Fortune-attribute skills turned every contest of chance into glorious nonsense. Coins that should have come up tails landed heads for the bird that cawed at them. Maze paths chosen at random turned out, impossibly often, to be correct. Lucky finds were found. Kyle, far from being frustrated, was overjoyed—he simply made the games wilder and stranger to keep up with their new tricks, and the ravens loved him for it.

And then there was Hero.

His egg had been among the last to hatch, and Kyle had hovered over it the entire time, refusing to leave even to sleep. When at last the golden shell finally cracked, the bird that climbed out of it bore no resemblance to the broken creature Kyle had carried home from a shelter. The burns were gone—every last mark of them, the scarred half of his body restored to whole, glossy, gold-shot feathers. The clouded, sightless eye was clear, bright, and gold. He stretched both wings, the ruined one and the good one now indistinguishable, and looked at Kyle with two seeing eyes for the first time since the day he flew into a fire.

Kyle cried. He would deny it later, loudly, but he cried, and Hero pressed his whole healed self against his contractor's chest and made that low pleased sound deep in his throat, and no one in the realm pretended not to see.

And there was more. Hero's evolution—the completion of so promising a beast—pushed Kyle the final step he had needed. Through their bond, Kyle's own cultivation surged, and at last he crossed the threshold.

Commander Rank One.

Elias smiled when he felt it ripple across the realm, because he knew exactly what it meant. His reckless, stubborn, big-hearted brother had finally reached Commander Rank—which meant his Beast Space could at last hold a third contract.

Which meant the Protector Turtle that had been waiting patiently all this time was, at long last, ready to come home to him.

Lucky Raven

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